


take your time (coming home)

by kirjaviafterdark (Kirjavi)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Commitment Arc
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Multi, Non-Chronological, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Slice of Life, Some Plot, no one was posting taz commitment smut so i'm being the author i want to read in the world, purely self-indulgent, this is called self care
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-09-01 14:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirjavi/pseuds/kirjaviafterdark
Summary: a home is not a where but a who, and a family can grow around you without you realizing it.essentially soft, domestic nonsense with our favorite superhero throuple (quadrouple?)





	1. the overwhelming joy said

**Author's Note:**

> So uhhhhhh I just listened to TAZ: Commitment in between episodes of Amnesty and these characters grabbed me by the proverbial throat and wouldn't let me breathe until I wrote this?? There may or may not be more to follow, depending on whether or not these guys will let me chill.
> 
> Title, of course, from the song with the same title by fun.
> 
> (please, i'm begging you, don't let them good good mcelboys see this)

Weekends are one of the few times all of them have free. In order to make the most of them, Remy uses his first paycheck at his new IT job to impulse-buy an extra-long king-sized bed giant enough to fit all of them. Nadiya, naturally, can’t condone such easy spending, but she has to admit being able to stretch out full-length next to her partners, whatever form they are in, is worth the expense.

Remy, of course, is the kind of sleeper that sprawls over at least half of the mattress. It’s almost a superpower in its own right—there is no way a lean little man who is maybe an inch taller than her on a good day is so easily able to take up so much of the mattress and a good amount of the blankets. Irene, on the other hand, is the most considerate bedmate Nadiya has had in a long time—she radiates warmth like a small space heater and always leaves ample space for her. When Kardala deigns to make an appearance, of course, she gets most of the bed by rights. There is absolutely nothing like napping with an eons-old goddess, though, no matter how much of the covers she steals. Either way, Nadiya prefers to have both Remy and Irene/Kardala with her if she can. She’s found, recently, that she’s reluctant to let either of them leave her sight for too long.

It’s irrational, and she knows it, but she’s far from the only one thinking that way. She knows Remy times his lunch breaks to theirs and FaceTimes them religiously, and she has seen the way Irene’s shoulders slump with relief when she enters their shitty shared apartment every evening to see both of them there. She and Kardala have finally worked out something of an agreement—Irene gets the weekdays, Kardala gets the weeknights, and they take turns on the weekends. It works well, most of the time.

She is grateful, this lazy Friday evening, that they are all here, and safe, and happy. Yes, the universe is cold and largely empty, and yes, entropy spirals ever closer, but in their bedroom Remy’s cold toes are beginning to warm up against her legs and she can hear Irene is humming to herself as she finishes hogging the bathroom and comes into their room.

Nadiya loves her new job—it’s amazing how _fun_ it is to work in a lab that isn’t associated with a weirdly-culty organization that nearly got her and her partners killed—but the constant stress of running clinical trials, making sure everyone follows protocol, and cleaning up simple mistakes can be a lot at the end of the week. The pleasant drowsiness that weighs down her limbs now, combined with the warmth of their bed and the lateness of the hour, makes her customary boundaries crumble like ash. As Irene comes into the room, she allows herself to sleepily reach out to her, letting her fingers hang in the air like a child.

Irene takes pity on her and takes her hand. She is warm, and her lips as she presses a kiss to the back of her hand are warmer still. Nadiya begins gently tugging her toward the bed as Remy sits up beside her and drapes a familiar arm over her side. “Come to bed, Irene,” he says, making ridiculous little grabby-hands at her. “I missed you guys all week, I feel like I haven’t really seen you in ages.”

Irene laughs at that and allows herself to fall into bed. She leans up against Remy’s bare, muscled shoulder and sighs deeply in relief. “This week did go on for ages, didn’t it,” she says.

Nadiya hums in relief and lazily traces the freckles spilling over his chest. “I missed you two,” she says quietly.

Remy takes that validation and runs with it. “Awwww, Nadiya I knew you cared,” he croons. “We missed you too, you big sap, you absolute—”

Nadiya takes initiative like she has done her entire life and shuts him up with a kiss.

Kissing Remy is one of the best things in her life, tied only with kissing Irene or Kardala. The way everything about him suddenly stills, like everything in him narrows down to this one moment. He makes a delightful tiny little sound and his hands come up to clutch at her ratty T-shirt. Her hand wraps around the back of his head and she feels a warm body press up against her back.

“Not gonna give a goddess her dues?” Irene teases. She gently tilts Nadiya’s head back until she can kiss her. Nadiya goes easily for once in her life, leaning back to gently trace the seams of her lips with her tongue.

“Hello, baby,” Irene murmurs in that lovely sweet voice. Nadiya can feel Remy shiver against at her tone and privately she echoes the sentiment. Irene leans past her and gives Remy an equally gentle, equally passionate kiss. “Either of you feel like showing me how much you missed me?”

Remy grins and kisses back, sliding a ropes-calloused hand up Irene’s shirt to cup a breast. Nadiya knows from experience the softness of her skin, the way her nipples peak so prettily against the thin fabric of her shirt. She hums happily and leans back against the pillows, arching her back into his touch. Nadiya leans next to them and presses kisses to the delicate skin of her shoulders, where her neck meets her collarbone, her chin where the thin dark lines of her tattoos break the clear copper of her skin.

Nadiya grabs the elastic waistband of her pajama pants and darts a questioning look at her. Irene nods and lifts her hips as Nadiya pulls them down. Irene has great thighs—admittedly, Nadiya is biased, but the way they curve, their softness and how they feel wrapped around her head are like nothing she can describe. Mathematically perfect, biologically efficient, and beautiful in no way she can write down or explain.

Remy has propped himself up on his elbows and he has those perfect legs splayed apart, face hidden from view between her thighs. Irene moans softly and her hips roll up against his face, hands twining their way into his hair.

Nadiya presses a kiss to her neck, then her collarbone, making her way down her chest and rucking up her shirt to expose her breasts. They move pleasingly as her hips rock up into Remy’s mouth, and Nadiya gently pinches one dusky nipple, marveling at how it stiffens at her touch. Irene moans again, louder. “Nadiya,” she breathes. “Remy. . .” Her fingers tighten in his hair and he hums against her. Nadiya watches her legs begin trembling, pulse beating sympathetically in her chest. She presses her thighs together and watches as she falls apart.

Irene comes with Nadiya kissing her, swallowing up any noise that could leak through the thin apartment walls. Her chest heaves as she comes down from her high, and Remy laughs breathlessly as her legs shake, lips wet and shining.

She stretches luxuriously as she catches her breath, a hint of the goddess bleeding through in her heavy-lidded look of satisfaction. She pulls Remy up and kisses him in thanks. He melts into her and she smiles at him. “You wanna come, baby?”

He nods and shoots a desperate look at Nadiya. She shrugs and jerks her head towards Irene, telling him as clearly as she can that Irene’s in charge tonight. Untouched, precome drools down the length of his cock and her hands ache to hold, to touch, but she hasn’t been given permission. She leans back against the pillows and watches.

“C’mere.” Irene pats her leg and Remy obediently scooches up the bed so he leans against her. “Go on, baby. Give us a show.”

Remy moans and his eyes flutter shut as he grinds against her. Blindly, he reaches out and Nadiya takes his hand, holding tight as he chases his own pleasure. Nadiya can feel the muscle of Irene’s thigh tense against her own leg, giving Remy something more to press against. Irene cups his face and kisses him as a blush spreads down his dark skin. With a whimper, Remy comes, biting his lip to stifle his cry.

His breath is ragged as he catches his breath, bracing himself against the headboard to lean his forehead against Irene’s. Nadiya kisses him, tasting the salt and musk of Irene still on his tongue.

“Nadiya,” she hears Irene say. “Patient girl. I think you deserve your turn.”

The slow burn kindling between her legs flares at that. She has a penchant for getting caught up in other things without attending to herself—watching her partners, seeing their faces in pleasure, is as good a distraction as any. “Irene,” she breathes.

Irene presses two fingers against her lips, eyes looking expectantly at her. Nadiya opens her mouth obediently and swirls her tongue around them, wetting them. Irene kisses her in thanks, her mouth warm and steady against hers. She slips her hand under her pajama shorts and between her legs, finding her clit with ease. She rocks her hand against her, slowly, unhurried.

Remy leans up behind her, a warm, solid presence. He slips a calloused finger into her, working in tandem with Irene. He finds that spot inside her that makes her hips move on their own accord, and a moan tears its way from her mouth. She’s wet enough that he can slide a second one in easily, and the burn of the stretch makes her head spin, how sweetly it fades into pleasure.

It’s so good so quickly, and so much, that it doesn’t take Nadiya long at all to come. When orgasm takes her, it is quick and strong, hitting her like a wave. She clenches down on his fingers and tries to rock against Irene’s hand at the same time, white-hot sparks of pleasure glancing through her veins.

She feels almost raw afterwards, exposed and tired and needy, and she pulls the other two around her like shields. She nestles her face into the space where Irene’s neck slopes into her chest, taking a deep breath of her where her scent is clearest, cinnamon and fresh snow and safety. Remy wraps an arm around her and pulls her close, kissing the back of her neck. She can feel their heartbeats, beating ever-so-slightly out of sync against her skin.

They sleep, and no one gets nightmares, and when morning comes Nadiya will make pancakes, and Remy will make fresh-squeezed orange juice with the pulp filtered out for them, and Irene will set the table the way she knows Nadiya likes it, and Kardala will have bacon and breakfast sausages, and they will all be warm, and loved.


	2. came courageous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> irene and kardala work some things out, and in the process come to a surprising conclusion. pre-ot3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow guess uhhhhhhhhh this is a thing that's decided to keep going  
> this is probably blasphemous but at this point what isn't anymore?

Every time Irene thinks she has a grasp on this whole situation, running from the government and dodging awkward questions about newsfeed images and having an _actual literal goddess lodged in her head_ , something throws a wrench in her tracks.

She tries her best to think of it as a learning curve. It has to be worse before it gets better. After their initial meeting (if you could even call it that) where Irene was suddenly thrust into the backseat as Kardala awakened, hungry for fighting and flesh, they had done their best to work out an agreement. There was no way Irene could ask Kardala to sleep in the back of her mind as she had been forced to do for all of her life pre-Fellowship, but there was no way she could just stay an eight-foot-tall Inuit goddess for the rest of her life. Eventually, they had settled on taking turns depending on the day. Irene gets the weekdays when she has to work, Kardala gets the weeknights when they come home, and weekends get worked out as they come. It works out, for the most part.

And then there are times like this where Irene, for all of her interpersonal skills and experience, doesn’t even know where to start.

_You are stressed, gentle one,_ Kardala rumbles as she steps onto the subway heading back to their shared apartment.

Stress and frustration make her unusually curt and she mentally snaps back, _No_ fucking _shit, Kardala_.

Mild surprise radiates from the back of her mind. _What is the cause of this? Was it that rude little man in Marketing?_

Irene finds an empty seat in the car and sits down, barely managing to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. _Yes_ , she thinks at her. _I know I’m in HR so of_ course _I know how to act like a decent human being, but would a modicum of decency hurt?_

 _You are far too powerful to be harmed by him or any other mortal,_ Kardala reassures her. _I or the other two would never let that happen._

Irene sighs and looks down at her hands, curled in her lap. The subway begins rattling out of the station. _I know_ , she admits. _It’s just. . . I hate being talked down to. I have done more than that man could ever even have dreamed of, and he still thinks he has the right to treat me like a child. It’s–_

 _Infuriating,_ Kardala finishes for her. _I am sorry._

 _It’s fine_. Her hands have balled themselves up into tight fists and she consciously forces herself to relax them.

_It isn’t_. Kardala feels frustrated, prickly sparks of anger sparking out from her presence. _You deserve better. We_ all _deserve better than these jobs, with petty coworkers and no room to run or breathe or–_

_Hey_ , Irene thinks at her. She feels Kardala pull herself back. _We just had a bad day. We can get through this, right?_

Kardala grumbles indistinctly and stays silent the rest of the way home.

Irene comes home to an empty apartment, as she does every weekday. There’s about an hour until Remy comes home, and depending on how caught up Nadiya gets in her labwork, anywhere from three to six hours until she comes home. She throws her bag on the coffee table and heads to her room.

_What are you doing?_ Kardala asks, deciding to rouse herself once again.

_Stress relief_. To her embarrassment, a flush is already burning at her cheeks. _Would you mind just–_ She projects a vague feeling of _privacy-embarrassment-frustration_ and Kardala radiates amusement back at her.

_Pleasuring yourself is nothing to be ashamed of, gentle one_. Kardala sounds like she’s laughing and Irene feels that flush spread down her neck. _There is no need to be so prudish about such a natural and good-feeling thing._

Irene rolls her eyes at nobody and throws herself down on the bed. “Come on, Kardala,” she says aloud to the empty room. “Just. . . keep it down for a bit? Please?”

_We are one being, Irene,_ Kardala reminds her gently. _I cannot dim my presence any more than you can._

“Fine.” She can’t believe she’s doing this–it’s probably blasphemous on six different accounts–but it’s really been a hell of a week and this day was the final straw that broke the very stressed camel’s back. “Do what you want, then.”

She leans her head back against the pillow and closes her eyes, breathing out slowly. Her hand finds its way under the waistband of her skirt, the other one drifting across her belly until it lies over her breast. Kardala is mercifully silent, leaving her alone for now.

Her fingers find her clit and she rolls her hips up into her hand, sighing quietly. Her other hand grabs her breast, rolling her thumb over her nipple. It feels so _good_ already _,_ good simple bodily pleasure that sends her breath shuddering out of her.

She tries to focus on that, how good her fingers feel against herself and that slow, delicious heat that rises in her core, but her mind can’t shut down. She scrunches her brow and circles her fingers harder, tries to clear her mind, but she’s lost that thread of arousal and can’t pick it up again.

_You are frustrated_ , Kardala observes.

Irene stills her hand and opens her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. _Just a bit, yeah,_ she snips.

_Let me help you_.

Her eyes go wide and she freezes. If rubbing one out with a goddess in her head is blasphemous, she doesn’t even want to think about what actively mutually _getting down with a goddess_ means for her spiritual wellbeing.

_Who cares_ , Kardala says impatiently. _It’s no biggie._

_Where’d you pick up that phrase?_ Irene thinks, but it’s not important.

_Let me help you_ , Kardala says again. _It will be good for both of us. Think of it as a team bonding exercise._

Irene’s sense of piety screams _no_ but the residual frustration in her system combined with the irrational sort of thought process that takes place as lust overrides logic makes her resistance crumble.

_Fine_ , she thinks reluctantly. She leans back again, physically forcing herself to relax.

_Take a deep breath_ , Kardala tells her. _Relax. Center yourself._

Irene does as she says, feeling her chest rise and fall as she does so.

_What are you picturing?_ the goddess asks her. _What brings you pleasure?_

Irene allows her mind to wander. _Hands_ , she thinks. _Touching me, loving me. Not letting me go._

 _Good,_ Kardala says, and it sounds like she is smiling. _Touch yourself_.

_How?_ Irene asks, but her hands are already moving, half her own actions and half something of Kardala bleeding through into her movements. As if in a dream, she watches her hands skate down her chest and over the soft skin of her belly, skimming, teasing. She presses up into them and they press back down against her, a physically grounding touch. A sound–a gasp, maybe, or a quiet moan–slips out of her mouth, despite herself.

_Good_ , Kardala says approvingly. _Good._

One hand moves down further, until it’s resting on her lower stomach. “Please,” she says aloud. “Kardala, I–”

_What are you imagining?_ Kardala asks her again.

Irene huffs a little, impatient. _Fingers against my clit,_ she thinks. _Lips kissing my neck, my breasts, moving against me_. _Giving me something to press up against._ Finally, mercifully, her fingers find her clit again. After that brief period of stimulation and then nothing, she’s sensitive, and she shudders. “Fuck,” she breathes.

Her hands do the same thing as before, teasing one nipple while another works against her clit, but it’s different this time, somehow. Knowing Kardala is watching, moving her hands with her, feeling the same pleasure she does, makes that warmth begin to spiral inside her, reaching up to a peak.

She whines and turns her face into the pillows, wishing desperately she had something to hold onto. “Kardala,” she whimpers, and then _Kardala_ , she pleads.

She doesn’t say anything, but Irene can _feel_ her smile, glinting and sharp and amused. It combines deliriously with her fantasy until she can see it clearly in her mind’s eye. _Clever hands working her over, smiling lips pressed against her chest, a familiar laugh as it shifts into a moan. . ._

Her orgasm hits her like a wave, and when she comes it is a full-body thing, legs shaking, head rolling back against the pillows and her free hand clutching the sheets. It ebbs slowly, leaving her catching her breath, that marvelous glowing relaxation suffusing her limbs.

She stretches luxuriously, and can feel Kardala reveling in her body too. _Better?_ She asks.

Irene smiles and she can feel Kardala in the back of her mind, happy and satiated like a cat in the sun. _Much_ , she admits.

They both relax in that afterglow. Irene slits her eyes half-closed, allowing her mind to drift.

Of course, that can’t last for long.

Her eyes shoot open and she sits bolt upright in bed. _What’s wrong?_ Kardala asks, but Irene’s too busy having a minor crisis to pay attention to her.

Those hands _(clever, long-fingered hands that don’t shake, tremor trained out of them by years of labwork)_. Those lips _(a gap-toothed grin pressed between her breasts, a smile always present, easy to laugh and love)_.

“Oh no,” Irene says out loud to the empty apartment. “Oh geez. Oh no.”

_Oh_. Kardala laughs at her in the back of her mind. _Is that all? I was wondering when you’d catch on to that_.

Irene doesn’t dignify that with an answer, only buries her face in her hands and screams quietly.

She hears someone at the door fumble with their key, then swing the door open. “Hey, Irene,” Remy yells into the apartment. “I picked up that tea you mentioned you liked on my way back from work! I don’t know if Kardala likes it but it’s worth a shot maybe?”

“Thanks!” she yells back, then hisses to Kardala, “If you even _breathe_ a word of this when Nadiya comes home, I’ll–I’ll–”

_You’ll what?_ Kardala teases. _Stutter at me more?_

Irene rolls her eyes so hard she momentarily worries for her sight. _You know what I mean._

She gets that impression of her smile again. _Do not worry, gentle one. Kardala is patient enough._

_Thank you_ , she thinks fervently at her, and goes to face the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we just keep doing this, huh? anyways catch me on tumblr at a-flickering-soul.tumblr.com and leave a comment/kudos!


	3. we can't help but make (love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our sweet jump boy gets the loving he deserves

Remy remembers when they all went to pick out the rope together. Satin so it wouldn’t scratch or chafe like the ones at the gym, braided so he could have something to fidget with. Kardala had chosen the color, though—she said she liked the deep red against the darkness of his skin, the contrast and the warmth.

It’s cool against his skin, beginning to warm. Nadiya ties the knots carefully around his wrists so they don’t pinch in the slightest. She traces her fingers over the freckles that spill down his chest and smiles as he shivers at her touch. Already, his fingers itch to touch her, but he’s stuck grabbing at the bedcovers instead. He huffs in frustration and Nadiya laughs.

“He looks good like this,” she says. She trails her fingers lazily down his chest. He squirms under her touch, trying to get away from her fingers and press up into them at the same time.

He can hear the smile in Irene’s voice. “He does,” she agrees. He shivers at the hunger underlying the warmth in her voice. “Color, Remy?” she asks.

“Green,” he answers. His voice is rough already.

“How shall we start?” Nadiya’s voice is cool, even as she defers to Irene. “He looks a little desperate already, doesn’t he?”

Irene smiles gently down at him and ruffles his hair, skritching her nails gently against his scalp. He leans his head into her touch and whines a little when she takes her hand away. “I think I’d like to make him watch,” she says. “We all know how tactile you are, hmm? I think I’d like to see what happens if you can look, but not touch.”

“Irene,” he breathes. His toes curl against the blankets.

“I know you, don’t I?” she says gently. “I know exactly what you want.” The goddess’s voice bleeds through her words, suffusing them with power, and his mind goes fuzzy with desire. Knowing Kardala is watching, even if he doesn’t have those strong, sure hands on him, is enough to make his breath come faster.

“Irene,” Nadiya says, but she is already there, reaching one hand up to palm her breast and the other snaking between her thighs.

Remy whimpers as Irene’s hand comes away with a sheen of dampness already clinging to them. He knows personally how she feels, the exquisite softness and the warmth, and his hands long to touch, to hold. “Please,” he says, but he doesn’t know who he’s begging

The other two pay him no heed. Irene gently leans Nadiya down until she’s propping herself up by her elbows, arched up to her touch. They look like a painting, all soft light and perfect curves caught in stasis, until they move and breathe and touch. Nadiya dips a leg down, almost casually enough to be unconscious, and he can see Irene’s fingers against her.

Her fingers swirl over her clit and Nadiya gasps. “Irene,” she breathes again. “Fuck, I–”

“I know,” Irene murmurs.

“I need you in me, Irene, please–”

“I know,” she says again, and gives Nadiya what she wants. She slips two fingers into her easily and Nadiya moans, rolling her hips into her hand.

“Right there, Irene, _fuck_ –” Irene cuts a mischievous look at Remy and twists her wrist. Nadiya _shudders_ and grips her wrist tightly. “ _There_ ,” she breathes.

Irene begins working her over, curling her fingers against that spot over and over again. The wet noises her fingers make, almost drowned out by the sound of Nadiya’s breaths turning into moans, make Remy press unconsciously against the rope. He wants to _feel_ them, he wants to run his hands over their skin and kiss them and feel Nadiya shake against him, but he _can’t_ , he’s tied up and can’t move and _he loves it_.

He is so hard and the sweet ache of it intensifies as Nadiya comes with a shuddering moan. Irene kisses her neck, sucking a dark mark into it as she rides it out against her hand. “You did so good, beautiful girl,” she murmurs against her skin. “You did just right.”

“Fucking hell _,_ ” Nadiya breathes, and she catches Irene’s lips hungrily with her own. Her disregard of Remy is almost believable, were it not for the way her eyes keep flitting to his, amused at how clearly he needs them.

Remy’s toes curl against the sheets. Irene leans up over him, eyes dancing in the half-light. He looks up at her, letting all of his desperation seep out through his eyes, and she smiles at him and strokes his hair. “You wanna play, don’t you, baby?” she murmurs.

He pushes as much as he can against her hand, but the restraints around his wrists hinder his movement. Some half-noise seeps from his lips, half whine, half gasp, all want.

“I know,” she says. She kisses him possessively, tongue tracing the edges of his lips, and her hand finds his cock. Even that small touch feels so unbelievably good and he whines.

“Please,” he begs.

She runs her thumb over the leaking head of his cock and smiles at how his toes curl against the sheets. “You’re so beautiful, Remy,” Irene tells him, and it’s so _Irene_ , so honest and truthful that he blushes. “Look at you, all tied up pretty like a present.”

He feels the mattress as Nadiya lies down next to him. “You are very pretty like this,” she says matter-of-factly. “You so clearly want what you aren’t allowed to have.” She tips his chin up with long fingers and he goes, helplessly. She kisses him and lets her lips trace a trail down his jawline to his neck.

It’s so much, everywhere but where he needs it most, and he tries to roll his hips up into Irene’s grasp. She catches him and loosens her grip the moment he tries to move. “ _Irene_ ,” he pleads. “I want–”

She leans down and kisses him once, gently. “Trust me,” she says, and he does, he does, he does.

She spreads one small hand over his chest, channeling just a drop of Kardala’s strength to hold him down effortlessly. He couldn’t possibly move, even if he wanted to.Everything in him stills, until everything he is is filled up by her.

“Stay still,” she tells him, as if he could do anything else.

Irene straddles him easily and sinks down on him in one smooth motion.

His breath leaves him in one _whoosh_ of air. She is warmth and softness and slickness and she is so wonderfully _tight_ around him that he can barely breathe. It takes him a few seconds to register that she asked him a question. “Remy,” she says again. “Give me a color.”

“Green,” he gasps out. “Irene, god, you feel so good.”

She blushes a little and wiggles her hips. “I’m glad,” she replies archly.

And then she starts to _move_ and he throws his head back against the pillows with the sheer goodness of it. He moans and arches up to meet her movements, sparks of pleasure lighting up and down his spine.

Irene hums in pleasure, her breath coming fast as she rocks against him. “You feel so good,” she breathes. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Her words make Remy’s head spin. He can feel her thighs flex as she moves, the tiny micro-adjustments she makes until he hits that spot that makes her legs shake and the timbre of her voice shift deeper, velveted in arousal. She tightens around him and a sob is punched out of his chest. He wants and wants and wants.

Irene laughs breathlessly and leans over him, pressing her breasts against his chest. “I got you,” she tells him, and he can only meet her gaze and trust.

She begins to move in earnest, then, grinding filthily against him and moaning as she drags over his length. The sound of her breath melts into moans, and he wishes more than ever now that he had his hands, to run down her sides or tuck her hair behind her ear or run his thumb against the little jut of her clit. “God, Remy, you feel so good,” she breathes. Her breath comes ragged, hitching into little moans and gasps. “You’re so good, baby, you’re doing so good.”

“Irene,” he gasps. He can feel his climax building in his gut, a fire leaping higher and higher, licking at his ribcage. “I’m so close, Irene, please—”

Nadiya tugs lightly at the ropes looped around his wrist. He turns his face to her, breath coming faster when he sees the look in her eyes. She kisses him hard, tongue slipping out to trace the tips of his teeth. She moves down, sucking a deep mark into the skin of his neck. She scrapes her teeth against his collarbone and he sobs. “Please,” he begs, and he doesn’t know anymore who he’s asking.

He can feel her breath against his skin like a brand, marking him. Her hand finds his, tightening, grounding him.

Irene is the first and only person Remy’s ever seen to smile as they come. It’s this beautiful, sunny thing of sheer joy and he sees it now as she shakes above him. She tightens around him, grinning, gasping, and like that, with Nadiya’s lips against his shoulder and Irene’s pace slowing into languid, deliberate rolls of her hips against him, he comes.

His eyes slit shut and he whimpers as his orgasm crashes over him. Irene leans over him and kisses him, carrying him through the aftershocks. Nadiya is a warm weight against him, running her hands over his skin, gently petting him as he shudders to a stop.

“How do you feel, Remy?” Nadiya asks.

“Mmmmm,” he answers indistinctly. He can feel sweat cooling on his skin.

She laughs and he can feel her smile pressed against his skin.

Once his brain reboots, the ability to create words returns to him. “Good,” he says decisively. “Very good.”

Irene laughs too. She leans down again and kisses him before getting off of him and heading to the bathroom to clean up. She makes this funny little scrunched-up face as she walks and his chest fills up with this overwhelming, gooey love for her, for both of them, and he leans against Nadiya as she leaves.

“You liked the ropes, then?” Nadiya asks as she begins to untie the knots.

Remy stretches his free arm, rubbing at the red marks they left behind. “I did,” he admits. Absurdly, he can feel his cheeks redden. “A lot.”

Nadiya smiles and he loves her so unbelievably much. “I’m glad,” she says, and the sincerity in her voice makes him blush harder. She runs her hands over his wrists and sucks in a dismayed breath. “Oh no,” she breathes.

Remy starts a little. “What?” he asks anxiously. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“Your wrists,” she says ruefully. “I’m sorry, Remy. I must have tied them too tight.”

“Oh.” Remy thinks about the red marks on his wrists, in the shapes of the knots she tied for him. “I don’t really mind it, actually?”

Nadiya quirks a brow. “Oh yeah?” she teases. “I don’t think I mind it either, then.”

She leans over to untie his other arm and he pulls her into a spontaneous hug, crushing her against him. He wants to make up for all the contact he was deprived of, and he runs his free hand over her, marveling at the bumps of her spine under her skin. She laughs and kisses him, wrapping her hands around his face and bumping her forehead against his. “I’m glad you had a good time,” she says quietly, tracing the freckles scattered over his cheeks.

“Mmmm,” Remy hums at her. She’s a nice weight against him, even if her hair is getting in his mouth.

“I come back to see my girlfriend napping on my boyfriend and a knot still needing to be untied,” Irene says, coming back into the room and throwing a dampened towel on top of Nadiya.

Disgruntled, Nadiya rolls off of Remy and unties that last knot. “Come over here, Irene,” she huffs. “Quit being a smartass and cuddle us.”

Irene laughs and joins Nadiya while Remy gives himself a cursory wipedown. The towel is cold and he shivers, readily rejoining the other two when he’s done. Irene scooches over, making room for him, and throws her arm across his chest lazily. She pushes her face into his chest like a cat and makes a satisfied little noise. “This was nice,” she says, voice muffled against him.

Remy snuggles against her, feeling Nadiya’s arms wrap around him and the sharp little point of her chin rest against his shoulder. He nods, the warm smell of Irene’s hair surrounding him. “It was,” he agrees dozily.

Nadiya idly scritches her fingers against Remy’s scalp. She pulls away suddenly, frowning, and Remy cranes his head to look at her. "What is it?" he asks.

“Is anyone else hungry?” she asks. “I really want Thai takeout from that place down the street.”

“Ooh,” Remy says. “Order me some of those chicken satay skewers, please.”

“I want pad thai,” says Irene. “I know it’s basic but it’s _good_.”

Nadiya rolls her eyes affectionately and fumbles around the bedside table for her phone. She begins rattling off their orders and Remy lets his eyes slide shut. _Just a moment_ , he tells himself, surrounded by warmth and love, _and then there will be dinner, and talking around mouthfuls of food, and laughter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a side note but hmmmm this fic is slowly but surely developing a Plot and i am Afraid
> 
> come yell at me at a-flickering-soul.tumblr.com! or whisper a comment, question, or concern to any local corvid and it will know where to find me


	4. she is here and now she is gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy cries over something and Kardala gets a first-hand look at how odd humans can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of stupid and dumb but honestly it made me happy to write and that's all that matters.

Kardala wakes up to a faint, muffled sound. She can’t pinpoint immediately why it woke her up—the unfamiliarity? Then the rest of her wakes up too and worry floods her body.

The little man is crying. Why is he crying? Is he hurt? Who hurt their Remy?

She springs up out of their bed, pulling off the blankets and sheets that managed to wrap around her, and sprints down the hall. She follows her ears to the living room and finds him there, curled up on the couch. Warning bells blare in her head (he is so small and quiet Remy is never quiet what has _happened--_ )

Kardala picks him up very gingerly and peers at him. He squeaks a little in surprise, which is a good sign, but his eyes are still watery and puffy-looking.

“Little man!” she thunders. “What is wrong? Are you hurt? Who hurt you? I will seek vengeance, I will spill thunder on their heads, I—”

Remy wraps his arms and legs around her like one of those funny little bear-like creatures she sees on TV and bursts into tears. Kardala is, to say the least, a little taken aback. “What happened, Remy?” she asks, as gently as possible. It feels wrong to see him like this, and she wants desperately to see that toothy grin on his face again.

(She is not like Irene, she is not used to these violently human attachments to others, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world.)

He sniffs pathetically and says “It’s kind of stupid” through a few hiccups.

“It can’t be that stupid if it upset you so much,” Kardala points out reasonably. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Yeah.” He takes a deep, shuddery breath, trying to gather himself. She waits patiently.

“Opportunity—our Mars rover—was called for dead today and I just have a lot of feelings about our little girl up in space, is all,” he says. He scrubs at his face with the heel of his hand.

All of the words he said makes sense individually, but not together. She mentally pokes at Irene’s presence in the back of her head, sending her a question. Irene sends back a flurry of images and ideas—a robot with electronic eyes and a brain and a mouth, sending a manmade thing into space against the cosmos, treads moving farther than anyone had planned, and pictures of a gravelly surface no human had set foot on.

“Your space robot?” she asks, just to clarify.

Remy nods and smushes his face into her chest. “She was supposed to run for only ninety days but she went for fifteen years,” he says, voice muffled. “She took thousands of pictures and found water on Mars and worked so hard and I just love her very much.”

Kardala hugs him tighter. “And Opportunity is still up there?”

“Yes!” Remy cries. “She’s still on Mars and we can’t get her back and bring her home until _we_ go to Mars and that’s like _decades_ into the future!”

“I am sorry,” says Kardala. “She will come back home one day.”

He sniffs. “Yeah,” he says. “I just hope she knows how good she did and that we didn’t forget about her.”

_This is a robot_ , Kardala thinks, but she doesn’t say anything. It is not important to her, but it is important to Remy, and so she holds him anyways.

“Here,” he says, and wiggles an arm out of the hug to grab his phone. “Lemme show you some of the pictures she got to take.”

Kardala watches as he flips through black-and-white pictures of a world far away from theirs. “Here’s the Santa Maria crater,” Remy says, “and here’s the rock formations that proved Mars had water, and this one’s a dust devil. . .”

They sit like that, scrolling through pictures, until the door slams and Nadiya comes in. She puts her bag down on the table and presses a kiss to Remy’s mass of curls. “You hear the news, then?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Remy says. “Surprised you heard about it too, Dr. Bio McBioperson.”

Nadiya sniffs. “All gays love NASA,” she says. “Our girl did real well.”

“Yeah.” Remy’s thumb pauses on a panorama shot of a reddish landscape fading into a rusty orange sky. “She sure did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remy cried over Oppy (because so did I) and you can't change my mind. It just makes me really emo to talk about how humans will bond with anything, even a little robot up in space, and I feel like Remy feels the same way.
> 
> We will return to our regular porn sooner or later, rest assured, but in the meantime talk to me about our sweet lil robot girl up in space or our good good superhero romance at a-flickering-soul.tumblr.com!


	5. all of me is a prayer in perfect piety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nadiya and kardala take some time for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've broken the convention of the past four chapters and taken a name from Hozier's incredible lesbian anthem "Moment's Silence" instead of fun.'s "Take Your Time" and that really tells you all you need to know about this chapter.

Nadiya would not get on her knees for many people, but something about Kardala makes her feel some kind of way.

Kardala does not demand worship. No, if she did Nadiya would never even think about loving her, adoring her the way she does. Kardala loves bravely, openly, aggressively affectionate in a way Nadiya could never be. She is too proud, too spiky to do that, and that’s okay. But it’s nice to be able to show your feelings in such a concrete, unmistakable way.

Kardala sits—lounges, rather—on their bed. Her eyes are half-shut, eyeing Nadiya in the indolent, cocky way only she has. She is completely naked, and she wears that nakedness like the finest furs and fabrics the world has to offer. The expanse of perfect coppery skin, etched through with scars and lightning-strike stretchmarks, makes Nadiya’s mouth dry.

Nadiya is clothed, though, kneeling at the foot of the bed. The pinch of her pants’ waistband and the rustle of fabric over her skin hum at the edges of her senses, right on the edge of being too much stimulation. She waits patiently, for once in her life with nowhere else to be.

She watches her sit up, casually spread her legs, and swing them over the foot of the bed. Nadiya lets her eyes drift down past the thatch of dark hair, to the whorl of labia and clit beneath. Kardala sees her looking and smirks. One big hand takes her chin and tilts her head upward, gently but irresistibly. Everything whirring in her brain stills at the touch of her hand

“I see you looking, little demon.” The deep rumble of her voice makes her squeeze her thighs together reflexively.

Nadiya can feel a flush begin to burn high on her cheeks. “I can’t help it,” she says quietly. “You are beautiful.”

“That is true,” she acknowledges. “Still. Of all the people to lack self-control, you do not come to mind, Nadiya.”

Nadiya does not say anything, only nuzzles her face a little against her hand.

“Maybe you need that, though,” Kardala thinks aloud. Her thumb traces little circles on her cheekbone. “Maybe you need to give up control every now and then. Is that right?”

She nods against her palm, unable to meet her eyes. Even now, after fighting together and running together and making a home, a life, together, she has a hard time asking for what she needs.

Kardala’s hand drifts lower, gently encircles her neck. Her thumb rests above her carotid artery. Nadiya can feel her pulse tapping against her fingers. She kisses her, lips working against hers, teeth gently scraping against her bottom lip and pulling away. The goddess leans back, propping herself up on her elbows. She beckons Nadiya up and helplessly, she goes. “You know what to do, Nadiya,” she tells her, and she does.

She runs her hands over her thighs, the corded muscle underneath, and bows her head to her cunt.

Nadiya tries her best to categorize everything she experiences, everything she feels and finds and does. This does not, cannot, be defined in such a way. This is a feeling, a taste, an action, a gift. Every single time she does this it is a revelation . The feel of her against her tongue, her taste and her heat—nothing about this can be easily categorized.

She has always learned quickly, and so she prides herself on knowing her partner, knowing exactly what she likes and how she likes it. She kisses at her lips first, a gentle open-mouthed thing, then sets to work in earnest.

She runs her tongue up the length of her, savoring her taste, then laps gently at the bud of her clit. Kardala hums above her, pleased, and she can feel big hands lace into her hair. She tastes like salt and musk, but deeper underneath it is something wild, something powerful. Nadiya could spend ages like this, exploring her on her knees.

She sneaks a look at Kardala. She is reclining against the pillows, eyes closed, teeth gnawing her lower lip in a way distinctly reminiscent of Irene. Nadiya grins and kisses at her again, scraping her teeth ever-so-slightly against her folds before laving her tongue against them again.

Kardala shudders gratifyingly and her hands tighten in her hair. She repeats what she did again, savoring her taste, the way she can feel her velvety walls around her. When her hands gently tug her upward, she obeys, returning her attention to her clit. She sucks at the tiny nub gently, feelings those powerful thighs shake around her head.

When Kardala’s hips begin to stutter and roll against her she lets her mouth hang open, tongue lolling out, allowing her to take what she wants. Kardala rides her tongue with the same passion and care she does everything with, hands gripping at her hair just the right side of painful that makes her head spin. She comes like that, rolling against her mouth, and Nadiya is so turned on even the seam of her pants against her clit feels good. She is careful to clean her up as she finishes, soft kitten licks over her thighs and folds.

The moment she finishes Kardala pulls her up, cups her face, and kisses her until her head goes foggy. Her mouth and tongue are tired and she kisses back sloppily. Her kisses have a little bite in them like this, leaving Nadiya leaning into her, craving more.

“You need something, don’t you,” Kardala murmurs against her mouth. It’s a statement, not a question. “You aren’t satisfied.”

She hates admitting she needs this but she _does_ need it, she needs to feel Kardala against her, taking everything she’s willing to give her. She nods, incapable of speaking through the want clogging her throat, and leans against her. “Please,” she whimpers. She didn’t even notice when she began grinding against her thigh.

“What do you want?” She can feel her voice rumbling against her skin, through even her shirt. “Tell me what you need. You need to tell me what you want.”

Shame and arousal burn simultaneously in her cheeks. “No clothes,” she whispers into her neck. “I want to feel you against me.”

“Good,” Kardala tells her, and she is dizzy, dizzy, dizzy with lust for her. “What else?”

She pushes her face against her like a cat, guilty, lustful. “Your fingers,” she barely whispers. “I want you in me. I want you to make it hurt, just a bit.”

“Good.” Kardala presses kisses to her hair, slides a calloused hand up the back of her shirt and rubs the back of her neck. “Good. I’m going to take care of you, all right? I’m going to take care of you.”

She lets her divest her of her clothes, blouse and pants and underthings falling in an unceremonious pile by the side of the bed. Even just her bare skin against her feels so good. She is so warm, almost hot, and Nadiya lets herself go, she lets herself press up against her like some touch-starved thing, drowning in her warmth and strength.

She presses one finger in almost immediately and Nadiya lets out a choked-off sob. It feels like so much in the best way, like being given a lake after crawling in the desert, and she rolls her hips down onto her hand. “Please,” she begs. “More.”

She does what she asks, mercifully giving her a second finger, and not long after that, a third. It stretches and hurts a little in the best way possible. The sweet burn of them feels so _right_ in her, exactly what she needed in exactly the right way, and she almost sobs at how good it feels. “Yes,” she chokes out. “Yes, yes, Kardala, _fuck_ —”

Kardala wiggles those fingers in her, just a tiny little flicker of movement against her sweet spot, and she collapses against her. “ _Please_ ,” she begs.

Kardala kisses her forehead. “Since you asked so nicely,” she says, and finally, _finally_ begins fucking her properly.

Every bit of her weight falls on Kardala—there is no way she can support herself when she treats her like this. Her fingers seem to spark lightning in her, trailing up her spine in glorious, addictive jolts of heat. Nadiya whines and pushes herself down onto her hand, greedily wanting more even as the heel of her hand comes up to press against her clit. She bites her lip, trying to stifle the noises that want to make their way out of her.

“Don’t muffle yourself,” Kardala says. The wet, filthy noises her fingers make against her make shame burn in her, combining deliriously with her arousal. “I want to hear the noises you make.”

She shudders against her and a humiliating moan is forced out of her. “Kardala,” she whines. “Please. . .” She doesn’t even know what she’s begging for anymore, but she trusts her.

She sinks down again on her hand again and hits knuckles. The stretch of them makes her legs shake, and this time she doesn’t try to muffle the sounds she makes. Kardala pulses her fingers against her sweet spot and grinds that calloused palm against her clit and her moan is choked by what to her distant confusion sounds a bit like a sob.

Kardala freezes instantly, hand stilling in her. “Are you all right?” she asks quickly. “Did I hurt you? Was that too much?”

She’s not upset, she can identify that quickly enough. “I’m okay,” she says. Tears clump her eyelashes together and she presses herself against Kardala. One arm comes up to hold her tight against her chest as she scrubs awkwardly at her face. “It’s just—it’s just a lot and it’s really good and I just really want to come, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” Kardala is so good to her about checking in and knowing her limits when she wants to be treated like this but right now, with her fingers still inside of her and her calloused hand just resting against her clit, she couldn’t care less.

She nods against her skin and verbalizes it for good measure. “I’m sure,” she says. Her voice chokes a little. “I just wanna come. You treat me so good, please—”

Kardala kisses her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “I know,” she says, and Nadiya has to hold back a wet laugh. “Let me take care of you, then.”

When her fingers begin to move again Nadiya almost sobs out loud. It’s so much and so good, all at once. Her hips begin to move on their own, fucking down onto her fingers and rolling against her palm. She doesn’t know what her mouth begins to say, litanies of begging and babble.

She comes so hard she sees sparkles behind her eyes as everything in her tenses and releases. Kardala keeps up that same steady, unyielding pressure, thrumming her fingers against her like a heartbeat, like the flash of lightning in the sky.

“Kardala,” she sobs as her fingers move past pleasurable into overstimulation. “Kardala, please—”

“Trust me,” she says, and Nadiya does, she does, more than so many people who have come into and out of her life.

Kardala leans down and kisses her, worrying her lip gently between her teeth and soothing the nip with her tongue. She gasps into her lips, trying to catch her breath only to lose it again. Kardala curls her fingers upward and presses the heel of her hand against the oversensitive nub of her clit. “Come for me,” she murmurs, in that voice like the growl of thunder in the sky.

She shudders her way through a second orgasm, feeling wrung out and raw and clean. She clings to Kardala, a fixed point in a spinning world. Without noticing it, her face is wet with tears and she hides her face in her neck, trying to catch her breath. It feels like she’s never taken a real breath before until now.

Kardala kisses her forehead and gently leans her down until she is laying on her side. They fit into each other like a catalyst and an activation site , flawed but made perfect through time and mutual desire. As she slowly slips her fingers out of her, she whimpers at the sudden feeling of loss. “It’s all right,” Kardala murmurs. She pushes her hair out of her face and kisses her forehead. “You did just right. Just breathe.”

She does as she’s told, mimicking the steady rise and fall of Kardala’s chest until her own breathing steadies. She curls into her, insinuating herself under one arm and pressing her forehead against her chest. Nadiya can hear the steady beat of her heart against her skin, just a bit deeper than that of a mortal. Kardala pulls her close, grounding her under the weight of her arm.

The quiet sound of their breathing is broken by Kardala’s voice, low and unable to be ignored. “Nadiya.”

Childishly, Nadiya burrows her face into the space between Kardala’s neck and her chest. She mumbles indistinctly in response. Kardala goes on as a heavy, gentle hand comes up to rest at the back of her neck. “Are you all right?” she asks.

Nadiya grumbles and pulls away. Every molecule of her craves to be in her arms again, but she’d rather be face-to-face for this. “I’ve been. . . under a bit of stress, lately,” she admits. It’s hard to meet her eyes, even after all they’ve done together. “Tracking down where King Dick went, running trial after trial at the lab during the weekdays and taking down pockets of Fellowship agents on the weekends. . . it’s been a lot lately, and I don’t know why, but everything’s just been hitting me a lot harder than it should be.”

Kardala pulls her close. Nadiya breathes in the comforting smell of her—the freshness and danger of new snow, the warm musk of her skin—and wriggles closer against her.

“Is there anything we can do?” she asks. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. You aren’t alone, ever—Irene and Remy and I are always here for you.”

“This helps,” she says. Her voice is a little raspy from what she put it through a few minutes ago. “Sometimes I get. . . too into my head sometimes and need to be grounded. All of you help. This is the worst it’s been in a long time. All of you help me more than you can imagine.”

“I’m glad, then.” Kardala’s hand begins to trace a comforting pattern against her scalp, gently massaging out the tension that had built up over weeks of stress. “Please tell us,” she says, and isn’t that something, a goddess asking a mortal to talk to her. “Any of us. We care about you, Nadiya, more than you know.”

She nods against her skin and yawns. “I’ll try.” It’s not quite a promise, but it’s a bit of hope.

“Sleep.” Kardala strokes her hair and her eyes drift shut. “You do not have to work tomorrow. You need the rest.”

She does, safe in the promise that she can let her mind shut off and someone will be there for her when she wakes up.

* * *

Hours later, Remy comes into their bedroom, bopping his head to whatever beat he’s playing while he shuts down his laptop. He sees Nadiya sleeping and immediately takes off his headphones. “You got her to sleep?” he whispers.

The corner of Kardala’s mouth quirks up. “I did,” she admits proudly, if quietly. “It was no small feat.”

“Good.” Remy puts his things away and changes into sleepwear as quietly as possible. “She hasn’t been sleeping for the past few weeks, I’ve noticed. She won’t talk to me as much as I’d like her to, sometimes. Something about a stiff upper lip or whatever.”

The bed dips a bit under his weight, despite his caution, but Nadiya doesn’t stir. He gently leans over to kiss her temple, then curls up next to her. He yawns like a cat and lets his eyes slowly drift shut. “’Night, Kardala,” he mumbles, and then he, too, is asleep.

Kardala stares up at the ceiling. She can feel the gentle whisper of Nadiya’s breath against her skin, hear the tiny wheezy sounds of Remy’s snores. Everything is still, and warm, and quiet.

She closes her eyes and sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~guess! which! character! i! project! onto! most!~~  
>  anyways i miss my giant thunder wife and also i've been listening to hozier a lot, hence this chapter. please yell with me about my giant thunder wife and/or the gentle bog man at a-flickering-soul.tumblr.com!! thx for sticking around i love all of you!!


	6. let your lungs fill up with smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya takes a hit.

“On your left!” Nadiya yells.

Behind her, Kardala laughs through bared teeth as she smashes apart the chunk of torn-up car hurtling toward them. “Keep trying, mortal,” she cackles. “Your attempts at combat amuse me!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Remy zig-zagging his way around the ceiling of the warehouse, trying to reach the agent hurling loose metal at them. He catches her eye and flails his arms at her in a gesture she interprets as “keep stalling”. “Rush him!” she hisses to Kardala, and together they sprint forward.

The other two agents lie in the back of the warehouse, already taken out in their initial sweep of the building. The only one left is the one with the telekinetic ability—or perhaps the magnetic ability, Nadiya’s not quite sure yet—and once they get their hands on the intel they carry, they’ll be one step closer to figuring out what the Fellowship is planning.

He’s panicking—he starts throwing bigger and bigger pieces of metal at them, uprooting pieces of pipe from the concrete and swinging them at their heads. Kardala dodges easily and keeps her momentum, but Nadiya stumbles—she’s a scientist first and a fighter second, and the more heavy-handed of their duties have never come easily to her.

The agent throws up a protective barrier of sheet metal, tearing it straight from the roof above them. With a shouted curse, Remy somersaults in midair and changes his course, crashing to the ground. “For real, dude?” he yells. “A heads-up would have been nice!”

“You are on the wrong side of history!” the agent yells. “Cease your efforts and America’s king will be merciful!”

“Been there, tried that,” Nadiya quips. She focuses and stretches her forearm out into a shield. Her other arm she shapes into a hammer—it hasn’t failed her yet. “Clear me a path!” she yells.

“Roger!” Remy launches himself at the barrier, pushing it across the concrete floor with a terrible metallic screech.

Kardala steps into the gap Remy created, letting the scattershot shrapnel nick her skin without feeling it. She bends the sheet metal with her bare hands, holding it just long enough for Nadiya to dart in, then throws it aside.

Nadiya takes the momentum she re-gathered from her charge and rushes in, holding her makeshift shield over her face and neck to protect herself from the worst of the shrapnel. She takes a swing at where she approximates the agent to be, but misses and loses her balance. A pipe jabs up at her and she jerks out of the way. “ _Fuck,”_ she hisses. This guy won’t come easy.

He spins, avoiding Remy neatly as he comes over the top, and summons that length of pipe into his hand. He swings it at her head and she ducks, missing it narrowly.

Remy aims a kick at the agent while his back is turned and hits him solidly in the back, sending him flying toward her. Kardala laughs. “Excellent kick, little man! We will win this fight yet!”

A large, angry Fellowship agent hurtles toward her, shock morphing into rage in his eyes. Her eyes widen. On pure reflex, she swings upward.

Nadiya hits him square on the chin and his forward momentum arrests so suddenly it’s almost comical. He slumps to the floor, knocked unconscious, and the suspended pieces of shrapnel and scrap metal clatter to the floor. “Nice one, Nadiya!” Remy pants as he comes up next to her. “Let’s grab the flash drive and get out of here.”

He’s flushed and sweaty from fighting, and his curls are slowly sneaking out of their tight bun. She smiles at that and begins to move toward him, but when she sees the look on his face she stops dead in her tracks. “What?’

“Y—you—” Remy stammers. His face has gone pale under the freckles.

Kardala holds him back from rushing at her and holds a calloused hand out to her. “Nadiya,” she says as gently as her booming voice can manage. Nadiya thinks that’s the first time she’s ever called her by name. “You are wounded.”

It is then, as the adrenaline slowly drains out of her system, that she feels the sharp pain in her thigh and looks down.

A piece of scrap metal is embedded in her left thigh, about the length of her hand and wickedly pointed. Her breath whooshes out of her and she sways on her feet.

“Hey, whoa there, Nadiya.” Remy gets around Kardala and loops an arm around her waist, slowly lowering her to the ground. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?”

She does. She takes another one, and then another for good measure. _Focus, Nadiya_ , she tells herself sternly. _Use that Rapid Analytical Mind to solve this problem._

“Okay,” she says. Her voice tremors and shakes and she doesn’t like that at all. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Let me think.”

“Nadiya, we really should call 911,” Remy says, voice shaking. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll dial now.”

“No!” she snaps, and oh, the pain is really starting to hit now. “Don’t call, we’re on the Fellowship’s radar as it is. We don’t need any more attention.”

“Nadiya, you are _bleeding out_ ,” Remy says. “I don’t _care_ about the Fellowship right now, I just want you to be _okay_.”

Kardala takes off her fluffy white cloak and wraps it around her as carefully as she can. Nadiya didn’t realize she was shaking. “What do you need us to do?” Kardala asks quietly.

“ _Let. Me. Think_.”

The piece of shrapnel is piercing her outer thigh, hence the sluggish pace of the bleeding—she should count her blessings that her femoral artery wasn’t punctured or else she wouldn’t be here to bicker with Remy. The metal itself is most likely blocking the wound so it’d be wise to keep it in until they can make it back home, but she doesn’t even want to think about the infection no doubt brewing underneath her skin. What can she do now?

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. Okay. Help me up.”

“Nadiya—” Remy’s voice wavers but bless him, he does what she tells him to do. His arm is sure and steady looped around her waist and she clings to him as she fights her way up. She puts barely any pressure on her leg but the pain punches into her, forcing what she doesn’t want to call a whimper out of her lungs.

“Let me take her.” Kardala reaches her arms out, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Keep the wound still.”

Remy looks at Nadiya. _You okay with this?_ he asks silently.

She nods and reaches up to Kardala. She hates the vulnerability in her actions but the throbbing in her leg overrides any sort of dignity she might have had. Kardala scoops her up, cloak and all, and steadies her against her chest. “Get me to the apartment,” Nadiya tells them. “As fast as possible.”

Kardala nods and turns to Remy. “Get the car.” Stabilized against her chest, Nadiya can feel her voice rumble through her clothes. “I will bring her to you.”

Remy nods, face drawn and pale, and rockets himself out of the room. As the sound of his footfalls fade, Kardala follows him, albeit at a much slower, less acrobatic pace.

“Little demon,” she says as she walks. “Please do not bleed out on my cloak.” Her words are chipper but in her tone is poorly-hidden worry.

“I’ll try my best,” Nadiya quips weakly. She huddles herself into Kardala’s warmth and focuses, drawing on every single medical course she’d sped through as a student. She closes her eyes and breathes past the throbbing pain in her leg, past the skin and muscle and veins into her own cells, humming and buzzing with her own biopolymer.

She _made_ this. She _made_ herself. She created her superpowers from nothing and she has grown herself like cells in a petri dish, nurtured herself and grown stronger as a result. She _knows_ herself. She can do this.

Nadiya breathes. She retreats deep into herself and finds where skin and muscle have been pierced by metal, where her cells cry out in pain. She focuses and stretches around where the scrap metal is, slowly and painstakingly creating a seal around every piece of affected tissue.

She ignores any outside stimuli, not noticing when Kardala gently puts her inside the car save for the pain as her leg is jostled. She resurfaces just long enough to hear the car pull into the parking garage, then goes back in.

“Nadiya.” Someone is shaking her shoulder. “Nadiya. Hey—oh, god, Nadiya, please—”

She forces herself to open her eyes. “Remy,” she rasps. “Hey.”

Remy slumps in a full-body display of relief. “Thank god,” he breathes. “You just. . . went non-responsive for a solid half hour. The only reason we didn’t call 911 was because the bleeding slowed down.”

“Oh, good,” Nadiya says. “Get the first aid kit from under the sink.”

“Gotcha.” He goes springing through the apartment and Nadiya hisses as the pain comes back in full force. The bleeding has slowed down, though, and she takes no small amount of pride in that. She takes stock of her surroundings--back in the apartment they share, a thoughtful towel down underneath her on the sofa--and hears Irene’s soft steps hurry from the kitchen into the living room where she is.

“What can I do?” Irene asks. Her hands are shaking and Nadiya tries not to notice. Seeing Irene so clearly upset is somehow worse than looking at the piece of scrap metal still embedded in her thigh.

Nadiya sits up carefully and even that slow, cautious movement sends sparks of pain rippling throughout her body. She wraps her fingers around the four or so inches protruding out of her leg and pulls.

With impeccable timing, Remy comes back into the room with the first aid kit just as Nadiya grits her teeth against a scream and pulls the metal piece out. Irene whimpers a little next to her and Nadiya closes her eyes against the wave of dizziness that comes over her.

“Jesus _Christ_.” Remy’s grip falters on the kit and he goes pale again. “Can you just _do_ that?” he asks frantically, rushing over to her. “I feel like you shouldn’t just remove pieces of metal from your body, like maybe that isn’t the best idea and oh my god, the dirt and stuff that must’ve gotten into the wound, and _tetanus_ —”

Nadiya decides to focus on her breathing again. She lets the length of metal clang to the floor and fights against the fast, shallow pattern her breathing wants to slip into again. “Remy,” she says. “Can you boil some water for me? Throw a handful of salt in it then get it to me.”

“Okay.” Remy takes a final look at her and runs to the kitchen. She listens long enough to hear the water run then closes her eyes again. She gropes blindly around the sofa cushion until she finds Irene’s hand and squeezes tightly.

“How are you doing, Nadiya?” she asks quietly.

Nadiya lets out her breath in a shuddering sort of moan. “It hurts,” she admits weakly. “I don’t like it.”

Irene doesn’t say anything but she lets Nadiya keep crushing her hand. Carefully, trying hard not to jar her, Irene keeps one hand in Nadiya’s and fumbles around in the first aid kit. She extricates the gauze and begins carefully dabbing at the skin around the wound, cleaning off the blood and grime.

Time’s begun to slip for her. It could have been a few minutes or it could’ve been an hour when Remy comes back with the saline solution. It’s still almost uncomfortably warm but she takes it from his hands anyways. She grips the pot handle with both hands and carefully tilts it to wash over the wound.

It stings _monstrously_ and for the first time she lets a sound slip through her teeth. It’s a choked, ugly sound of animal pain and as the saline solution drips down her leg she curls over, trying subconsciously to make herself smaller. Remy finally breaks and darts over to her, hands fluttering over her in a panic. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks frantically.

“Thread,” she chokes out. “And a needle.”

It’s Irene who stands and rushes to the junk drawer. Nadiya can hear her rummaging through it, looking for the shitty hotel sewing kit stashed there. She reaches out again, breath stuttering as the salt stings, and Remy mercifully takes her hand.

Irene comes back with the sewing kit, takes one look at Nadiya, and says, “I can sew. Let me do it.”

Nadiya nods jerkily and gestures to the rest of the saline solution. “Just fucking. . .dunk it first, okay?” She just wants this to be _over_ , no time to fuss about properly sanitizing the needle and thread.

Irene swishes it a few times in the leftover solution then nods at Nadiya. She leans back heavily, clutching Remy’s hand, and closes her eyes.

In comparison to the rest of her day, the stitches were practically pleasant. When it’s over, she opens her eyes to see four tiny, neatly-tied-off stitches and Irene, looking up at her as she wraps a bandage over the whole affair. “How are you doing?” she asks again. “Dizziness? Cold?”

“Cold, a little,” she admits. Her leg throbs dully. “Hurts. Tired.”

Irene reaches up and feels her forehead. “You’re a little clammy,” she says. “You should rest.”

“Pain meds?” she asks pathetically.

“Just ibuprofen.” Irene’s mouth twists to the side. “I’m sorry, Nadiya, it’s not much—”

“I’ll take it,” Nadiya tells her. “Anything.”

Irene smooths her hair back. “I’ll get it for you,” she says. She pauses for a moment, then— “Kardala says after you get some sleep she will make you soup. Simple food. Good for invalids.”

Nadiya forces herself to keep her eyes open. “That would be nice,” she says.

Remy presses a cup of water and some stale Ritz crackers into her hand. “Try to eat, Nadiya, okay? You need to get those electrolytes back in place and ibuprofen on an empty stomach sucks.”

Her stomach lurches at the thought of eating. Logically, of course, Remy is right, but the thought of eating is repugnant. She manages to drink most of the water and one of the crackers, but Remy is still looking at her with those big brown eyes.

Wordlessly, he takes the crackers from her and breaks them up into halves, then quarters. He presses one piece to her lips. She takes it and presses it against the roof of her mouth, letting it dissolve into a starchy paste.

Two more crackers are gone by the time Irene comes back with a full glass of water and two tablets of ibuprofen. She downs them, wincing as the powdery bitter taste hits her tongue.

“It’ll take a bit to kick in.” Irene is hovering, worry plain in her face. “You should try to get some rest.”

Nadiya nods. She makes to stand up, but her leg instantly buckles. Remy wraps an arm around her waist, supporting her weight. Irene gets her other side, warm against her. Painstakingly slow, they make their way to Nadiya’s room.

Irene lowers her gently onto her bed and Remy shoves a spare pillow under her leg. The painkillers are slowly but surely kicking in, and the throbbing is dulling to a hum.

“Try to sleep, okay?” Irene tells her. She nervously smooths her hair back again. “We’ll check on you every hour or so, just get some rest.”

Nadiya can feel her eyes already drooping, but she doesn’t fall asleep fast enough to miss the quiet sounds of Irene sobbing just outside her door.

* * *

When she wakes up, it tastes like something died and mummified itself in her mouth. She vaguely remembers getting nudged awake by one of the other two as she slept, but in the same way she remembers dreams she had, or nightmares.

In a chair dragged haphazardly up to her bed, Remy is sleeping. Even in sleep, his brow is furrowed in worry.

The pain in her leg is back with a vicious, biting intensity. She buries her face in her hands and takes a deep breath. She fumbles for the glass of water she keeps by the bed and gulps it, washing that dead taste out of her mouth. Then she sits up carefully, biting her lip against the pain as she jostles her leg, and cautiously peels back the bandage. She has no idea what she’ll see—by all means, they played fast and loose with good wound care. Debris everywhere, no real sterilization, and normal sewing thread in the sutures. She’s lucky she got her TDaP booster shot.

When she peels back the bandage, she’s pleasantly surprised. The stitches don’t look inflamed and miracle of miracles, nothing looks infected in the slightest. Either she got incredibly lucky, or the augmentation process boosted more than just their physical properties.

Something smells good outside her room and her stomach growls. Abruptly, she is starving, like it’s been years since she’s eaten. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and winces, pulling her breath sharp through her teeth.

Remy wakes with a start and looks around frantically until his eyes settle on her. “Nadiya,” he says sleepily. Then he wakes up enough to focus and his eyes widen. “No, no, don’t try to stand up by yourself!” He rushes over to her and loops his arm around her, supporting her weight. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“It hurts but it looks like it’s healing well, actually.” She tests a bit of weight on her bad leg and quickly abandons that attempt. Not _that_ well, apparently. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh! That’s a good sign, right?” Remy helps her get to the kitchen. It’s a slow process and Nadiya can already feel herself getting really tired of this whole invalid thing.

Kardala is dwarfing the small two-burner stove, carefully watching a pot simmer. It smells even better in the kitchen and her stomach grumbles again. “That smells good,” she says cautiously. Both she and Remy are generally apprehensive of Kardala in the kitchen after the Grease Fire Incident, but nothing seems to be amiss here.

“Ah! Little demon!” Kardala clicks the stove off and picks the pot up off the burner with her bare hands, completely unfazed by the heat. “Irene has finally told me how the stove works and I have made you soup! Far better than simple crackers and water. Plenty of meat—good for warriors returning after battle!”

Even after such a short walk, she can already feel her legs beginning to fail her. She grabs for the back of the chair and lowers herself into it. “It looks great,” she says honestly, and it does—steam floating up from the surface, chunks of what looks like beef floating amidst pieces of carefully-chopped potatoes and onions.

“My sisters would have something similar to this over the fire when I would come back from hunts.” Kardala carries it over to the table and carefully sets it down on the trivet. “We would throw whatever meat I caught in the pot and let it cook for as long as we could stand before we got too hungry to wait.” She dishes out a generous portion and puts it in front of Nadiya. “Eat.”

She does.

The soup is a warm, comforting weight in her stomach when she realizes she is suddenly bone-deep tired, dragging her down like gravity. Kardala catches her a split second before she face-plants into her bowl. “Rest again, little demon,” she rumbles. “Take more of your medicine and sleep.”

Remy shakes out two more ibuprofens into her hand and presses a glass of water into her hand. “When you wake up again, eat some more, okay?”

She takes the pills and nods dozily. Sometime after that she finds herself back in her bed, Kardala dwarfing the chair next to her. Under the comforting weight of her gaze, Nadiya sleeps again.

* * *

When she wakes again, the thick golden light of late afternoon pours through the window. The chair next to her is empty and something feels different. When Nadiya peels back the bandages to check the wound, she furrows her brow. In as scientific a way as she can describe it, the cotton thread seems to almost be surrounded by the forming scar tissue. Not in the way she would expect, how cells latch onto scaffolding and begin to proliferate. As if her own skin is rising up and surrounding the foreign body.

She flexes her leg experimentally. A sharp, stinging pain lances up her leg and she hisses. It’s a new pain and it feels cleaner, somehow. Like progress.

“Remy?” she calls. “Irene? Kardala? Anyone around?”

She hears rustling and footsteps from across the apartment and before she can track them Irene pokes her head through the doorframe. “Remy’s out picking up some over-the-counter antibiotics, just in case,” she says. She comes over and sits on the bed next to her, the mattress dipping under her weight. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, I guess.” She submits to Irene feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. “Leg feels better, actually, but check this out.” She strips off the old bandages and leans towards Irene. “Check out what the SkinThetic is doing.”

Irene’s nose wrinkles and she gently probes the healing wound. “I feel like it should look worse than this? It’s been healing for what, only two days?

“Yes, but that’s not the only abnormal thing!” Nadiya can feel her voice speeding up as she re-enters familiar territory. She’s always wanted to be a scientific abnormality. “Now with normal surgical sutures, they’re made to be removed. The surface and the composition are specifically made to stop cells from adhering and growing, but with sutures made of regular cotton thread, cells love it! It would ordinarily be consumed by the body and basically just grow into it. However, it looks like the SkinThetic I got implanted with is smart enough to know what a foreign body looks like and go against my own body to push out the foreign body! Isn’t that incredible?”

“That is kind of cool,” Irene admits. “And kind of gross. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

Nadiya rolls her eyes. “No, I think I’m out of the danger zone. Also I’d rather not have another professional have a reason to poke and prod at me—I had enough of that at the Fellowship.”

“You really scared us, Nadiya.” Irene’s hands fidget in her lap. Her voice sounds horribly small all of a sudden and Nadiya doesn’t even need to look at her to know that she is terribly, deadly serious. “Kardala—she would hate it if you knew this but that was one of the few times she was terrified for someone. And I—” She cuts herself off as her voice begins to shake. She raises one small hand to cover her mouth.

“Irene—” Nadiya reaches out, not knowing what she’s trying to do but knowing she has to offer what comfort she can.

Irene clutches her hand and presses it to her chest. She can just barely feel her heart, thumping steadily behind her ribs. “Don’t do that again,” she says. Her voice shakes, but it’s strong. “Do you understand? Let us take the hits for you. Kardala and I can handle it. You can’t, even if the enhancement process boosted your healing. If you had any idea how it felt to see you bleeding in the back of the car—god, you were so quiet and there was absolutely _nothing I could do_. Don’t ever do that again. Please.”

Nadiya can feel her heart quietly breaking in her chest. “I’m sorry, Irene,” she says quietly. “I thought I could do it, so I did. I never thought—”

“You _do_ think,” Irene says and holds her hand to her lips. She can feel her words press into her skin as she says, “You think _really good_. Just not about the people who care about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Nadiya says again. “I—I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“And go to a hospital,” says Irene.

“And go to a hospital,” she concedes.

“Good,” Irene says firmly. “Do you feel up to standing? Google told me gentle activity is good for recovery, especially if you’ve been poked and prodded by Fellowship scientists and have super sped-up healing.”

“Help me up, then.” Nadiya leans on her shoulder and gingerly stands, weight first on one leg then slowly shifting to the other. She stands normally for one glorious second, breathing through the sharp pain, then her leg buckles and she catches herself against Irene. Even though she’s back at square one, she feels the same rush she gets when she realizes her mistake and tweaks a chemical compound just a bit—the progress might not have been perfect, but she’s further along than she expected.

“You all right?” Irene is sturdy beneath her and they take a careful step forward together.

Somehow, Nadiya is laughing before she even realizes it. She takes another step, leaning on Irene, and another, faster this time. “I’m good,” she says. “I’m good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this keeps on happening, albeit at a very disjointed, poorly-scheduled pace, would anyone be fussed if i maybe shuffle some chapters around to make this a little more chronological? if no one's opposed to it i'd like to make this a bit more readable. drop me a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me about TAZ at a-flickering-soul.tumblr.com!! Griffin McElroy has personally put me in DnD hell and no one I know will yell about it with me!!


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